


heaven is in your eyes

by carolion



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3681468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolion/pseuds/carolion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>all david wants is to give himself to cook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heaven is in your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> all lower caps, i wrote this in florida on vacation listening to 'national anthem' by lana del rey on repeat. hence the sort of...well you'll see. apologies for the stylistic choice! FIC DUMP! YAY!

cook is always gentle with him whenever he touches david, his hands fluttering nervously as they reach to touch him, and then draw away. every single time he presses his fingertips against david's skin, he pulls back a few seconds later, like david's skin hurts to touch for too long. david would be worried, or offended, or hurt, but he's seen the way cook looks at him when he thinks david isn't paying attention, with all the longing and the love in the world in his gaze. it's the kind of look that makes warmth bloom in his stomach, and makes his heart pound embarrassingly hard, and he feels hot in the cheeks and ears. it's the kind of look that makes him want _everything_ \- all that cook has to offer. 

but cook keeps himself at bay, so david offers himself up. 

he's patient while cook familiarizes himself with this new territory, watching him explore the freedom he has to touch david, learning that david won't flinch away but will actually lean into him. and yet still cook is afraid of scaring him off, or pushing too fast, so everything they do is slow, and gentle, and timid. there is a part of him that just wishes cook would _hurry up_ and get it over and done with, but there is another part of him, a part that he prefers to listen to, that enjoys the slow pace, and the intimacy that comes with it. 

david has never had sex. he doesn't know what it will be like, but he imagines it will be with cook, and he imagines it will be scary, and confusing, but nice too. he's heard a hundred different descriptions from friends, from tv, from books and from movies. it hurts, it's amazing, it's disappointing, it's sticky, it's squishy, it's hot, it's bruising, it's magical, it's emotional, it's purely physical - it's love. if he was with anyone but cook, david would be terrified to even think of the possibilities of sex. but it is cook, and david thinks he might be in love with cook, and he'd do anything for him, with him, to him. he even hopes cook will want to have sex with him, because it means cook wants him in every way, just the same that david wants cook. and cook is not a dumb little boy, he's experienced, he's had sex. he's slept with women and with men, and this knowledge creates a little cyclone of anxiety in david's chest, a constant fear that he's not enough, or that he won't be good compared to all the rest. for all of cook's longing and for all of cook's love, david is worried he'll disappoint him somehow. 

the urge to please has long been ingrained in david's psyche. he wonders if it's natural for every human being, or if it's something cultivated in him, leftover impressions from being a child star. _love me, love me, like me, am I good enough? was it good enough? how can I be better, do you love me yet?_ on some level it irritates him that he's still so _immature_ , chasing after praise like a dog after a tennis ball, consistent in his eagerness to please. he's insecure, he knows he is, but he wishes he could just grow up and get over the doubt that always holds him back. 

cook helps.

cook helps by being there for him, by whispering compliments in his ears. he never explicitly tells david he's beautiful, but uses his crossword vocabulary to describe him, citing that he's _effervescent, incandescent, resplendent, scintillating, radiant, exalted, enthralling, illustrious._ he soothes david and tells him he's strong and he's kind and he's talented. he tells him he's not talented the way hollywood thinks of talent - as a kind of thing to master and wield as a weapon, brandishing it against critics and fighting your way to top with - but the kind of thing that is wrapped around his bones. he says david will never master it, but grow with it, learn with it, and that it will always eclipse the talent of others because it shines like a supernova within him, burning brighter and brighter, organic and fiery and _real_. despite the things that have happened to david, despite the trying and the failing, the sparking and the fading of his career, despite the issues with his vocal chords and breath control and everything against him telling him he _can't_ , that he will prevail. 

cook also tells him that it will burn him time and time again, and one day it will ignite in a burst of fireworks like the world has never seen, bursting into flames before it dies, petering out of existence. _but what a glorious way to go_ , cook says dreamily.

it makes david nervous when cook talks in metaphor like that, because it always starts so innocent and takes a dive into the extreme. he doesn't know if cook means a real death, the death of his career, or the death of his talent - that one day david will outgrow the thing in his bones and it will leave him wasted and withered. 

cook likes to joke that he doesn't have any real talent, just a voice that's a little hoarse from too many gigs at smoky bars, and a beat up guitar that he misses notes on. but david knows better. david knows that cook has _words_ , words that press against david's throat like a collar and choke him, leave him speechless but for cook's words. 

david doesn't need words around cook though. he hasn't trusted anyone like this in his life, ever, and it feels like cook just knows him, every smile, every twitch. ever since he was a child he always felt like people were hiding things from him, lying to him, sheltering him. and even though cook is trying so hard not to _corrupt_ him, he hasn't lied to david and the only thing he's trying to protect david from is himself.

but he isn't afraid of cook. even when he kissed cook for the first time, he hadn't be scared because of the look in the other man's eyes, like he was holding his breath waiting for it to happen. it was sweet, how cook had let david make the first move, even though david's kiss was clumsy and tense at first. but then cook had reached up and touched his fingertips to david's jaw, gently guiding him, and david had felt his insides come untangled. still cook kissed him like could have disintegrated at any time, cautious and slow, but it sent shivers racing up and down david's spine. 

he still feels that way, every time cook touches him. sometimes they lay side by side in the grass at cook's house in the backyard, and stare up at the sky so they can't see the tall fences protecting them from spying eyes. they stare up at the sky and look for shapes in fluffy white clouds or search for hazy constellations in LA's dim sky. cook likes to press his palm against david's, curling his fingers so they interlace with david's, and just rub his thumb slowly over the back of david's hand. such a simple thing, but it always makes david catch his breath, waiting for cook to do something, _anything_ but just stroke his thumb over david's soft skin. in those moments, david feels like the chemistry between them electrifies the air, and his body feels hot and anxious, unsure of what to do but knowing that he should do something. 

when they kiss now, cook takes his mouth with confidence, slow and hot and often tasting of the cinnamon gum that cook chews all the time, a sharp, spicy flavor that david doesn't seem to get tired of. and david knows, he _knows_ that their kisses have long since passed the 'decent' stage, and when cook presses down on top of him, hands loosely circling his wrists and holding him down, that what they're doing is a lot more intimate than other people who hook up in a motel for a short night. cook has touched him hesitantly, along his calves and the tops of his thighs, dragging his hands up slowly and watching their path with awe. he's drawn invisible patterns and symbols with the pads of his fingers on david's arms and neck, and he's spelled out words and phrases on the expanse of david's chest. 

david tried to touch him once. he put his hand on cook's belt, a little nervous but determined, hoping to press the heel of his hand against the bulge he felt in cook's pants, eager to feel cook's arousal for himself, eager to hear cook panting and swearing into his ear. but cook had grabbed his wrist before it could get to it's target, yanking him away and staring at him with wide-blown pupils. his lips were red and swollen from kissing david and he was breathing heavily, and david will never forget the way he looked, surprised and turned on. 

_easy there_ , cook had said. _don't want to do something you might regret._

david knows he won't regret it. but if cook wants to wait, he'll wait. for a while.

he waits until he can't wait any more, and he has to ask - _plead_ \- for cook to touch him like that. 

_i._ david straddles cook's thighs, leaning over cook's back as he traces the letter into cook's t-shirt. he pauses for a minute, and cook shifts subtly beneath him. _l_. _o._ _v_. cook's back goes tense beneath him, and he seems to be holding his breath. david is holding his own breath. _e_. he traces. _y._ cook buries his head further into the pillow he's resting his head on. _o._ _u._

cook exhales, and david leans forward, kissing the back of cook's neck. 

_i love you_ , he whispers against cook's hairline. he sits back up and strokes his hands down cook's back, following the curve of his spine up and down. then he begins to trace letters again.

_f_. _u._ _c._ he writes, feeling a little more nervous now. it's like a knot in his stomach, a million tangled threads, each one connected to something different and pulling him apart from the inside. 

_david_ , cook says suddenly, lifting his head. the muscles in his back bunch, and his arms pull forward, getting ready to push up. 

_k._ david traces insistently. _m._ _e._

cook takes a shaky breath and david slides off of his thighs, stretching out until he's laying on his side next to cook, facing him. he tugs cook closer until he's laying on his side as well. they stare at each other. 

_please_ , he whispers. 

cook's face is in one moment unreadable, and in the next completely open, raw and plain. david can see the want and indecision scrawled in his expression, the frustration and the desire, and he hopes his face reflects the same things. _please_ , he whispers again, grabbing a hold on cook's t-shirt tightly. 

cook exhales, shakily.

_okay_ , he says, and then he's rolling on top of david and pressing him down into the bed. it feels like birds are bursting into flight in david's stomach and chest and suddenly he's so excited and nervous he can barely breathe. he arches up into the weight of cook's body and puts his hands on cook's hips, fingers sliding under his t-shirt to skim along his skin. cook shudders, and lets his inhibitions fall.

they crash down as cook's mouth crashes onto archie's, and archie is swept away by the intensity, the force of feeling that radiates off of cook's body. he feels dizzy, matching kiss for kiss, barely noticing as clothes seem to just melt away from them, too wrapped up in the moment. it didn't feel real, it felt like a dream that could end at any moment, but when cook's hand grasped him firmly it was like nothing else he could have imagined. 

it was love. it had to be love. why else would this feel any different than when he touched himself? and yet somehow he was on the cusp, and he feels like he's unraveling. he's made of string, and cook has undone all of his knots. he feels delirious - it's too hot in their room, and but the air feels cool on his skin. he can't breathe, but all he wants is to keep kissing the expanse of skin on cook's neck and shoulders, his gasps and sounds muffled by the angles and curves of cook's body. 

sex is - scary. it's confusing. he can feel his cheeks turn bright red when cook's fingers brush against his asshole, and he doesn't understand the _want_ that pulses through him. want, fear, embarrassment. he pushes back, and suddenly cook has access to an entirely new part of him. and it hits david. this is sex. this is intimacy. this is trust and danger and excitement and it feels good and it's amazing and it's squishy, and hot, and wet, and _weird_ and he loves it. he loves it. he loves cook. 

the climax is all shooting stars and fireworks, and afterwards he's embarrassed by how loud he was, how good it felt, how desperate he was. cook keeps smiling into his skin like he has a secret, and david knows, david knows the secret is _him_ , is _them_ , not their relationship, but this part of them. the part of them where david begs to be touched and cook touches him with purpose, the part of them where cook can barely speak, and all his pretty words dry up, and david is the one singing praises to the heavens, can't hardly shut up. it's another level. it's something no one else can have. it's just theirs. 

it's the part of them where cook stops being gentle because david _wants_ him to. it's the part of them where david isn't afraid to ask for more. and cook isn't afraid to give it to him, to give him everything. it was everything david hoped for, and nothing he expected.


End file.
